Still, Jasper wasn’t satisfied.
“Did you see the wedding band she wore on a chain around her neck?” Leo asked as soon as they’d gotten under way. “It could be a family memento, but what if she was previously married?”
“Then even as a widow, she would be Mrs. Geary, not Miss,” Jasper said, his eyes on the bridge as they neared. He hadn’t seen the wedding band but didn’t know how it might matter to the case.
“Or perhaps she went back to using her maiden name. We might be able to learn more about her if?—”
“Lewis is handling it.”
Leo sealed her lips. “You’re angry.”
He met her probing gaze from across the cab. “You manipulated me into bringing you along.”
She’d claimed that she wouldn’t have gone to the Nelsons’ address on her own, but he didn’t believe her. Had he not fallen for her trick, she might have been incensed enough to try it.
“I did. I’m sorry, but I’m quite useful around dead bodies, you must admit.”
“I could easily have determined the time of death to be sometime between the foreman’s departure last night and his return this morning without you.”
“Yes, but then you would have had to waste time suspecting Mr. Bridges, as you would not have known she died hours before he arrived.”
He conceded with a roll of his eyes and returned to looking out the window. They crossed the bridge in silence, but it didn’t stretch on for long.
“You were keeping me in the dark about the article in theIllustrated Police News,” Leo said.
He sighed. “I didn’t want to bring it to your attention if you hadn’t already seen it, and I’d hoped you hadn’t.”
“Dita showed me.” She paused. “I can only think that this reporter, whoever it is, has a contact at Scotland Yard.”
He cut his eyes to her. “When I find out who wrote it, I’ll bash him in the head with his own typewriter.”
Leo bit her lips against a laugh. “You will not.”
He wouldn’t promise not to. Frankly, he found the idea of it appealing.
“Jasper, promise me you won’t,” she said. “If you find out who wrote it, you will tell me, and I will speak to him, or her, myself.”
She could defend herself, of course. But that didn’t stop him from wanting a hand in it.
When they arrived at the Wake Street address, Jasper descended from the carriage first. “Wait for me here.” He began to shut the door, but Leo stuck out her boot, preventing it from closing.
“I am not waiting in the cab.”
“Yes, you are.” The knot in his gut tightened. “If the Nelsons are involved in Gabriela’s murder, it would be irresponsible of me to bring you near them.” He shoved her foot back with his hand and latched the door.
It was irresponsible to even have her with him in the cab. Word was bound to get back to Scotland Yard that Leo had been at the factory too. He could only make so many excuses before Coughlan followed through with his threats.
And yet, although he would not admit to it, he did appreciate Leo’s ability to determine Miss Geary’s possible time of death. It was a large window, but if David Henderson didn’t have an alibi for those eight hours, from seven at night until three in the morning, Jasper could indeed place him under arrest for suspicion of murder.
He went to the Nelsons’ front door, a narrow building on a lower working-class street, surrounded by other nondescript homes. The people on this street likely spent their wages on food and necessities, not on beautifying the places they leased. Jasper grasped the brass knocker, and the door moved. It wasn’t shut completely.
“They’ve scarpered, they have,” a small voice came from behind him. Jasper spun away from the door.
A boy in half trousers and a patched cap stood on the short walk, hands in his pockets. He looked to be about eight or nine years old, one cheek smeared with dirt, the toes of his boots split from the soles.
“This is the home of the Nelsons?”
The boy nodded.
